


Bruabba Barista AU

by brunobucci



Category: Jojo’s bizarre adventure, Vento Aureo - Fandom
Genre: Barista AU, Coffee Shop, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 04:30:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunobucci/pseuds/brunobucci
Summary: Just a coffee shop barista au about our good old two gangstars Bruno and Abbacchio





	Bruabba Barista AU

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry this is so short but there’s more parts

Soft mumbles from every-day goers emerged from booths as the sound of new loafers clicked at the front door of Mikey’s Coffee Shop. Clean, graceful steps could be heard stepping along the polished, spruce brown vinyl tiles toward the matching light macore brown cashier’s desk. 

“Excuse me,” the man spoke softly, yet so robust, confident but gentle. The cashier looked over, not having been paying attention. “What would you…”  
The man in front of him bore a sleek black bob that draped over his cheeks just past his jawline and liniar bangs sitting above his face, framing it with such immaculateness. A braid sit atop his head, held by two golden bug-like pins. Below it all, two cerulean eyes stared back, round, large, captivating eyes surrounded by thick, yet featherly raven-black eyelashes, complementing his eye color. One could almost hear the seagulls.  
“...Like to order?”  
“One black coffee, please.”  
His words were short, but they held a dominance. Not a threatening one, but one that was easy to succumb to. This man, Bruno Bucciarati, knew where he was going and what he wanted. And that right now was to empty booth number 3 and a black coffee.  
“That’ll be $2.99…”  
Bruno noticed the way the man on the other side of the cashiers desk spoke. Deep, despondent, empty words with no real charm behind them muttering with no effort from charcoal-black colored lips. He also noticed how he looked at things. His deep, mauve eyes, with smudged black painted around them, that widened at very rare moments, like they had done when they first laid eyes on Bucciarati.  
This man had no purpose set for himself.  
Bruno pulled out his black leather wallet, pulling out a five dollar bill and handing it over to a waiting, black-nailed, pale hand. “May I have booth number three?”  
The cashier gave a nonchalant nod, his light lilac locks bouncing ever so slightly before hanging back over his thin face, covering his sharp cheekbones, as he counted the change.  
“You can keep it,” Bruno smiled softly, comfortingly, walking over to his booth. The cashier nodded again, raising his dark angular brows a little in interest. Who was this man…?  
The smell of cocoa beans and the sound of clanking blended in with the silent jazz music as Bucciarati’s coffee was being brewed. The warm ambience in the shop remained, deep orange sunlight peering in from a window beside booth number three as the tall cashier placed a white paper cup of steaming black coffee, lidded with plastic on the coaster at Bruno’s table. “Thank you,” the customer spoke.  
The cashier walked away with just a small mumble, Bruno could make it out as a ‘you’re welcome.’  
What made for a seemingly quiet interaction became something else, however, when Bruno noticed a bit of black marking on his cup, turning it over to see what it was.  
“018 728463 -Leone Abbacchio”  
Bruno’s felt his face become warm, a soft red shade flooding his cheeks as he smiled sweetly down to the phone number the cashier had left. He would be sure to make a call.


End file.
